holding hands

is just such an incredibly simple, wonderful act. Hands tell so much about a person. How hard they work, where they write their notes, who they love, what jewelry they wear, and what they're like sometimes. Earlier this morning, I held Adam's little hand. Even though it was lost in the desert of my own, it fit. He kept it there for the five minutes that we just sat there. Even when he moved, he made sure he didn't let go of my hand. He actually made sure that they didn't separate. I don't think anybody's ever held my hand like that. Like they had no thoughts of letting it go, and like it was the most natural thing in the world. Every time I've held someone's hand, they've always waited to let it go. I've always waited to let it go. But with a little child who is barely four years old, I was amazed that he didn't think that way. When do we get to where it's not okay to touch other people? When do we get to the point where it is?